


A Perfect Day

by Beckers522



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Musicals, Mutual Pining, Wicked - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522
Summary: Crowley is determined to give Aziraphale the most perfect day of his blessed life. Everything that could possibly go wrong, does.





	1. Crepes for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to the story I am currently working on ("Stop All the Clocks"). At some point in that story, the end of this one will be told form a different perspective. I wanted to give readers a chance to see how this entire day went down.
> 
> You do not need to read that story to enjoy this one (and vice versa). I thought it would be nice to get this one out there anyway! My goal is to have this one completed by the end of next week so that both chapters referencing the same events come out on the same day.
> 
> Enjoy!

This day was going to be the most perfect day in Aziraphale’s goddamn existence or Crowley would never forgive himself. Not that he made a habit of doing such a thing on normal days. That was besides the point. The point was, in fact, that today was the one year anniversary of the Apocalypse that didn’t happen and the demon was determined to see that his best friend spent the whole day celebrating. Aziraphale deserved to have a day full of enjoyment after everything they’d been through. It was his job to see to it that their accomplishment was properly remembered.

There was definitely no ulterior motive in his mind, whatsoever. 

The morning would begin with crepes for breakfast. The easiest thing to do would be to miracle them both across the English Channel to France. Aziraphale had picked out several places he’d classified as his favorite over the years. Any one of them would make for a nice meal between friends.

Crowley hated the word ‘nice’, even when it wasn’t being used when referring to him. Nice was a four letter word that was simple and non committal and didn’t even scratch the surface of anything it was used to describe. Aziraphale deserved a word much better than  _ nice. _ Aziraphale deserved perfection.

And that was exactly what Crowley was going to give him. 

So, at precisely 7 am, the demon climbed out of his Bentley with an armful of groceries and casually let himself into the bookshop. The door was locked, but that had never stopped him before. To his relief, the angel was nowhere to be found. 

Granted, Crowley had spent the past few weeks observing his friend’s movements. He knew that Aziraphale walked down to the corner tea shop every Thursday morning to replenish his supply. The angel could just miracle up his own tea whenever he wanted, but Crowley suspected he liked the conversation.

Aziraphale’s visits to the tea shop lasted anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour. It had been a gamble to show up while he was gone with the goal of having breakfast completed by the time the angel got back. Crowley had always been good at pushing his luck. The key was to not dwell on it too much. Focus on the task at hand and the rest would simply fall into place. 

The demon got to it rather quickly, not wanting to waste a second. He hadn’t exactly practiced the art of crepe making, but Crowley had enough sense to miracle himself up some instructions. How hard could cooking really be? Humans did it all the time.

“Blasted, idiotic, French pastery. Can’t even bother listening to a set of SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS!”

Twenty minutes later and Crowley was up to his elbows in lumpy crepe batter that simply refused to blend properly. He’d tried yelling at it, threatening it with the garbage can, beating it senseless with a spoon, all yielding no results. The batter still sat in a sad, gloopy puddle in the bowl, refusing to budge in its consistency.

“Nghk,” the demon huffed, glaring down at the empty pan in front of him. “Here goes nothing.”

He poured the first batch onto the pan, using a spoon to spread out the mixture in the most circular pattern he could. It ended up looking more like a five and a half sided blob. Golden eyes narrowed in frustration.

Aziraphale’s bookshop didn’t technically have a kitchen. What use did an angel have for one? There was, however, a portable stove top tucked away in the corner for when he felt the need arise to make tea the ‘human way’. Crowley had commandeered the machine for this task. So far, it hadn’t betrayed him, but it was only a matter of time.

“Hello?” a voice sounded from the doorway. Crowley let out a string of curses under his breath. He was hoping this would be one of the angel’s longer visits. “Crowley, my dear, are you here?”

_ My dear.  _ The words sent a wave of warmth through the demon. He struggled to keep the blush from rising to his cheeks. Curse this stupid, pale-faced body! It was like a walking window into his deepest thoughts and...ugh, feelings.

The demon quickly slipped his sunglasses back on and moved to intercept his friend.

“A-zi-ra-phale!” Crowley exclaimed in mock excitement, enunciating every syllable. “What brings you here?”

The angel laughed. Sweet and pure. It made Crowley’s heart thud in his chest. He cursed the blessed thing. What was it trying to do, give away his position completely?

“Oh, I just figured I would drop by and see how my oldest friend is getting on.”

He was playing along, Crowley realized. That was a sign that Aziraphale was in an unexpectedly good mood. That realization almost made the demon forget to grin like a fool at how the angel had called him ‘friend’. Almost.

“What have you got there?” Crowley asked, trying not to seem too curious. Aziraphale normally only came back with tea when he visited the shop, but there appeared to be another bag, this one made of brown paper, dangling from his hands.

“Oh, this?” The angel smiled and the whole room shone a bit brighter. Crowley was mesmerized. “I went out for my weekly tea run and was on my way back when I saw this sign in the bakery across the street. Two for one, Crowley. Can you believe it?”

The demon rolled his eyes, then snorted for good measure since Aziraphale likely couldn’t see his dramatic eye roll from behind the black glasses. “Angel, you have an infinite supply of money. Why would you need some sort of sale to buy a bag full of pastries?”

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale answered simply, beaming up at Crowley. The demon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. This looked an awful lot like the angel’s ‘I did something thoughtful for you’ face. He was quite familiar with it by now. “But I had a feeling you might drop by today and I wanted to get us a special treat.”

It took all of Crowley’s limited self control not to let out a groan. Why? Why did the angel have to be so blessed thoughtful all the time? Why couldn’t he, for  _ once _ , just give it a break.

“Is something burning?” the angel asked curiously, breathing in the familiar air of the bookshop.

_ The crepes. _

Crowley practically teleported into the back room, but it was no use. His breakfast masterpiece had gone up in smoke.

With a snap of his fingers, the skillet and ruined pastry was gone. Disappointment flashed through him, but Crowley pushed it aside. They still had all day to spend together. He was sure the next thing he had planned would be a huge success.

“It’s nothing!” the demon called out to his friend, hoping that the angel would leave the topic very much alone. “What scrumptious thing did you decide to tempt me with today, angel?” Hopefully, that would be enough to distract him.

Aziraphale beamed as Crowley re-entered the room. He reached a hand in the bag and pulled out a pair of croissants with a chocolate drizzle across the top. They were twice as big as any pastry the demon had ever seen and Crowley smiled, despite himself. How could he not when his angel was so adorably excited? He was growing soft. Surprisingly enough, Crowley found he didn’t really care. 

“Bon Appetit!”


	2. Dance Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale take a class on various popular dances.

Angels didn’t dance. They also didn’t have afternoon tea or attend book conventions or feed the ducks at the park, but that had never stopped Aziraphale.

“I heard through my sources that there’s a beginner’s dance class being held at the wellness center down the street,” Crowley mentioned casually to his companion as they walked down the streets of London. The demon had his hands shoved as deeply into his tight black pants as they could possibly go. His eyes remained fixed ahead on the sidewalk in front of them, trying desperately not to notice how close Aziraphale’s hand was to the side of his leg.

_ Just reach out and take it, _ his mind whispered to him.  _ You’re a demon. You take what you want, no apologies.  _

And, oh, how Crowley wanted that hand in his own. He wanted to touch that soft, warm skin, wanted to feel its reassuring weight beneath his fingers. They’d brushed hands before over the years, but never anything more than a few seconds. If he had his way, Crowley would have taken much more than just a few seconds.

_ Not yet!  _ He scolded himself.  _ You can’t make a move on him yet. You haven’t accomplished a single thing today, unless you count that disaster of an attempt at cooking breakfast. _

Crowley would have to wait until the time was right. He would give Aziraphale the best day of his life and only then would he make his move. Patience was not something he carried with him. It was a virtue after all, and Crowley was a demon. Still, he’d waited 6000 years. What harm could a few more hours do?

“Oh?” the angel sounded mildly interested, but not nearly as excited as Crowley had hoped.

He tried again. “Yeah,” the demon continued, trying to keep his voice level. Crowley could feel his heart thrumming wildly in his chest. Could Aziraphale sense how nervous he was getting? Surely, he had to know. They were walking right beside each other. Practically arm and arm except for the touching bit. “Supposed to be going over a few different dances. The waltz, pokla, and something called a gavotte.”

The angel stopped in his tracks, nearly causing the couple behind them to ram right into him. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and pulled him to the side, mentally chastising himself for getting his knickers in a twist from the almost-contact. Aziraphale was wearing a blessed suit jacket and dress shirt. There was absolutely no reason why Crowley should feel this flustered with a full two layers of clothing separating them.

“The Gavotte?” Aziraphale gasped. Crowley bit the inner part of his lip to keep from snickering. He’d known his friend was a fan of that particular dance. It had been the main reason he’d chosen this as their next activity. Even still, Crowley couldn’t have wished for a more enthusiastic reaction. “My dear, why didn’t you say so? What time does it start? Hurry up now, we musn’t be late.”

A wide grin spread across Crowley’s face. He simply shook his head and followed the angel down the street and around the corner where the lessons would take place. A small breath of relief escaped from his mouth. This was it. He could do this. Just because breakfast hadn’t gone exactly according to plan didn’t mean he couldn’t knock the rest of the day out of the park, so to speak.

They were the fourth couple to arrive at the studio. Crowley glanced around apprehensively as Aziraphale marched up to the lady behind the front desk to check them in. The three other couples had spread themselves out, each claiming one of the corners of the room. For a moment, it looked as if the older couple closest to them were going to step up and say hello but a single glance from Crowley seemed to change their minds. 

He didn’t want any humans interfering with this. Crowley had specifically picked this activity so he and Aziraphale could spend time together. Dancing wasn’t really his favorite thing in the world, but it would give him the excuse he needed to hold the angel’s hand. That was worth all the potential pain and embarrassment in the world.

“Are we too late to sign up?”

Crowley turned toward the table where Aziraphale was bidding the desk lady a fond farewell. He was grinning from ear to ear and practically skipped over to where Crowley was standing just a few feet away.

Two girls had wandered in from outside and were currently standing in front of the table talking to the check-in lady. They didn't particularly appear to be dressed for a dance class - one was wearing cut off jean shorts and a tank top while the other had a floral printed skirt and heels. If he had to guess, Crowley would have said they’d probably seen a sign posted as they were walking by and decided to give it a try.

“Sure,” the woman said warmly, glancing down at her watch. “The more the merrier. Is this your first dance class?” They nodded in unison. She looked up and over at Crowley and Aziraphale and suddenly the demon had a strange sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Excuse me, Mr. Fell?” Aziraphale turned around, flashing a warm smile at the two young ladies. Crowley bristled with indignation. “Would you and your friend mind dancing with these young ladies during the class? You mentioned attending dance classes in the past and I figured it would be easier for them as beginners to follow rather than lead.”

This could not be happening. Crowley stared at the girls slack-jawed. They literally had less than two minutes before the class began and these two bimbos waltzed right in and snatched his angel away from him. Technically, Aziraphale hadn’t answered yet, but Crowley didn’t hold out any hope. The angel was just too blessed  _ nice _ . 

“Oh! Absolutely!!” The words cut like knives through Crowley’s chest. “We’d be delighted to, wouldn’t we, Anthony?”

Great. His human name. That meant Aziraphale actually wanted to interact with these people. Why couldn’t Crowley ever catch a break?

He put on his best fake smile, trying to ignore the wave of jealousy as the girl with the flowered skirt leaned over to her friend and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I call the librarian!’. Crowley watched as she sauntered up to the angel and stuck out her hand in a friendly introduction. 

“So,” the other one began as she walked up to him. “You’re Anthony? My name’s Meghan.”

“Nice to meet you,” the demon lied. The words slid easily off his tongue. His golden eyes flicked over to where Aziraphale was standing, talking animatedly to his new partner. Subconsciously, Crowley lifted a hand to push the sunglasses as far up his face as they could possibly go. He didn’t want there to be any chance for anyone to see his eyes right now. 

Air filled his lungs as Crowley took a deep breath to steady his emotions. No need to lose his head now. This was fine. The important part was that Aziraphale had a good time. Everything else was of little consequence.

He almost choked on the waft of perfume coming off the girl beside him. For a being that didn’t need to breathe, that was saying something. 

For  _ someone’s  _ sake, what was this girl thinking? Had she spilled the entire bottle on herself and then forgotten to change clothes? Crowley’s eyes began to water. This was going to be torture.

Like with most things, Crowley had been right. The dance class was torture, but not because of the perfume or the boring music or the repetitive motions. It was torture because it could have been  _ him _ gliding across the room with Aziraphale. It could have been him making the angel laugh, holding the angel’s hand. But it wasn’t.

Instead, Crowley had been stuck with a college aged bimbo that could barely go one minute without stepping on his toes while Aziraphale was getting rather friendly with  _ that girl _ . The demon was furious. Aziraphale was his angel. No one else's. 

After one hour of pent up fury, the time for the gavotte came and all of Crowley’s anger simply melted away. He’d lost hope a long time ago that this activity would be anything but a disaster, but the look on Aziraphale’s face as they began prancing around the room was all Crowley had wanted. His angel was happy. The rest was inconsequential.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to all who are reading so far! I love these two so much, so this is definitely a fun one to write. Feel free to let me know what you think! I'm always happy to hear feedback.
> 
> Next update will either be sometime tomorrow or Sunday morning. I'm going out of town this weekend for my grandmother's birthday and may not have as much time to write as I'd like, but I'm hoping to get the next chapter written today.


	3. Don't Wish, Don't Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale attend a matinee performance at the West End.
> 
> Warning: There is a bit of cursing in this one, just so you all are aware.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance will begin in just a few minutes."

Crowley turned to look over at the angel beside him. He and Aziraphale had just settled into their seats and his friend was anxiously awaiting the first notes of the orchestral music to begin, signaling the start of the show. Although Crowley could have miracled them seats anywhere in the theatre, he’d chosen two along the central aisle of the first balcony. They were a few rows back from the front, but still had an adequate view of the stage. These seats were a perfect choice, in his opinion. Good enough to enjoy the show, but not good enough to suggest that Crowley had gone to great lengths to get them. He had an image to uphold, after all.

In all honesty, Crowley had absolutely no idea what Wicked was even about. He’d read it was a pretty popular musical and a lot of humans seemed to like it. The show was also based on a book, which Aziraphale had probably read. The angel read all the time. Surely he’d at least come across it over the years.

Whether he’d read the book or not, Aziraphale looked positively ecstatic to be here. The smile on his face warmed Crowley’s heart in a way it shouldn’t have been able to.

“Oh, Crowely, look!” Aziraphale gestured excitedly, pointing to the mechanical dragon hanging slightly below eye level for them. “It’s the Clock of the Time Dragon! They really did a wonderful job bringing it to life. Such an interesting piece of literature, you know. I do believe one of my favorite parts…”

Crowley wasn’t listening anymore. He felt a swell of pride in his chest upon hearing that Aziraphale had not only read the book but that he’d enjoyed it. This was it. This was the point where the day would turn around for them. So what if their morning had been less than ideal? The afternoon was sure to go according to plan. It had to.

The music started and Aziraphale immediately stopped talking, settling into his chair comfortably. With great effort, Crowley turned his attention to the stage, peering out behind his sunglasses to watch as the curtain finally parted. It would do him no good to be caught staring at Aziraphale throughout the entire show. With his luck, the angel would get annoyed that Crowley wasn’t enjoying the work of art that was being put on before him. Nevermind the fact that Crowley thought Aziraphale was the most wondrous work of art he’d ever seen.

A blush rose to encompass the demon’s entire face. He thanked Someone that the theatre lights had been turned down low. Had he really just thought that? What kind of a half-assed failure of a demon was he?

Glancing down, Crowley immediately wished he hadn’t. Aziraphale’s right hand was resting gently on his knee, mere inches from Crowley’s leg. Was this a sign that the angel wanted Crowley to take his hand? Was he just sitting comfortably? Would taking his hand make the rest of the show awkward and unenjoyable? What was he supposed to do?

This was a date, right? There was no way this couldn’t be seen as a date. Looking around, Crowley spotted several families in the crowd, but there were also a lot of couples in the seats surrounding them. He would bet his life that a majority of the humans around them probably thought they were together in a way that was much more than friends. So it wouldn’t be weird if he just reached over and took the angel’s hand, right?

Aziraphale’s hand moved on its own accord. Crowley stiffened in shock as the angel reached over and patted his hand excitedly exactly three times, leaning over to whisper: “What a fabulous way to start the show. Spectacular opening number, that one. Oh, I do hope the rest of the show is just as wonderful.”

Before the demon had a chance to react, the hand was gone. Crowley felt his fingers twitch a moment to late, grasping at thin air where the other hand had been. He glowered in his seat. What the bloody heck was that all about?

He tried, really tried to focus on the show. Crowley didn’t really care much to do so for the performers’ sakes, but he did want to ensure he could at least contribute to the post show conversation in a meaningful way. 

So far, the show wasn’t too bad. It was about a girl who’d been born green. Nobody liked her. They were all afraid, really. Crowley could relate to that. Most humans he ran into were afraid of him at some level, even if they never really understood why. 

Things started to get a bit better when the green girl and the pink girl started becoming friends. Crowley had to admit, the story reminded him a little of his relationship with Aziraphale. True, he hadn’t started out loathing the angel. Quite the opposite, in fact. Aziraphale had intrigued him and had caught his interest the first time the serpent had spotted him on the wall of Eden. Perhaps Aziraphale had hated him at first. They’d been mortal enemies, after all. Even if he had, the feelings couldn’t have lasted long. Not even an angel would shield an enemy he hated from the oncoming rain, would he?

Crowley glanced over. Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes were trained on the green skinned girl on stage. A soft smile adorned his round face and Crowley felt an overwhelming urge to lean over and place a kiss on the angel’s soft cheek. He immediately steeled himself against any such notion, turning his attention back on stage just as the green witch started to sing.

__ Hands touch, eyes meet.  
__ Sudden silence, sudden heat.  
__ Hearts beat in a giddy whirl.  
__ He could be that boy,  
but I’m not that girl.

The demon felt a strange pit opening up in his stomach. This song was dangerously close to dredging up feelings he didn’t want to deal with now. On stage, the girl was singing her heart out about a boy she loved that would never love her back. Crowley’s hear began to ache, the music touching him in a way he never thought possible.

_Don't dream too far___  
_Don't lose sight of who you are___  
_Don't remember that rush of joy___  
_He could be that boy__  
_ __I'm not that girl

Crowley was a demon. He would always be a demon, nothing would change that. Did that mean that Aziraphale would never care for him in the way Crowley cared for the angel? Was he destined to always watch from afar? To never be able to call the angel  _ his? _

_Every so often we long to steal___  
_To the land of what-might-have-been_ __  
_But that doesn't soften the ache we feel__  
_ __When reality sets back in

A movement in the corner of his eye caught Crowley’s attention. He watched as Aziraphale tugged a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and silently handed it over to the demon. Crowley stiffened. What in the world was that for? He was about to snap at the angel that he wasn’t a sap and didn’t need the stupid tissue when he felt a tear roll down his cheek.  
  
He was crying?  
  
This would absolutely not do. He would rather curl up in a ball and whither away than cry in front of Aziraphale over a song. And a fucking _romantic _one at that. This was not happening. He would just have to pretend he hadn’t seen the angel’s offering. If he didn’t acknowledge he was crying, there would be no way for Aziraphale to prove later that he had.   
  
_Don’t wish, Don’t start.___  
_Wishing only wounds the heart__  
_ __I wasn’t born for the rose and the pearl.

Stupid fucking song. Stupid fucking play. This had been a terrible idea. Crowley could feel the walls he’d so carefully built starting to crumble. Surely this song was almost over. Let’s get back to the animals losing their voices, yeah? Much more interesting plot point than...unrequited love. 

_ I’m not that girl. _ _   
_

The song ended and the audience’s applause roared in approval. Aziraphale clapped along with the rest of them. Crowley remained still as a stone, staring down at the actress with pure contempt in his eyes. He hoped she could sense his loathing. How dare she make him feel this way.

Lights came back up and the next scene began. Finally, they were getting on with it. Aziraphale had tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. This was fine. He was fine. Only a few more songs to go before intermission. He could do this.

Minutes later, halfway through the song Crowley had entitled ‘Everything on the Stage Turns Green’, all the lights in the theatre went out and they were plunged into total darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't recognize it, the lyrics are from a Wicked song called "I'm Not That Girl," sung by Elpheba's character in the first act. Wicked is one of my favorite musicals, so it was fun to add it in to this chapter.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this! We've got one more activity to go horribly wrong before everything comes together. I probably won't have it up until Monday morning (busy weekend coming up). 
> 
> Let me know how you are liking the story so far! See you guys early next week :)


	4. Picnic in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have a picnic dinner in the park.

_ Please, please. Let something go right today. Let us have this one thing.  _ Crowley knew no one was listening to his silent plea, but that didn’t stop him from trying. It just wasn’t fair. He’d planned this day for months - agonized over every detail to ensure it would be perfect, and disaster was determined to strike every chance it got.

Apparently, whoever had done the last electrical maintenance inspection at the theater had overlooked some minor details. Something had short-circuited during the performance, shutting off all power in the entire building with no easy fix in sight. All the audience members had been promised a full refund for their tickets and a free keychain from the merch table on their way out. That was all well and good, but it didn’t change the fact that he and Aziraphale hadn’t gotten to see the bloody end of the play.

Instead, they’d gotten to sit in darkness for nearly an hour while engineers tried to get the power back on. Once it was clear that the show would, in fact, not be ‘going on’ for the rest of the day, the audience members had been allowed to leave. Of course, as there were no operational lights, the ushers had to lead them all out in an orderly fashion. By the time Crowley and Aziraphale saw the light of day again, it was almost five o’clock.

“Well,” Aziraphale began, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “Have you any thoughts on dinner, my dear boy? I know we’re a bit on the early side, but I could do with a spot of something after all that.” 

What was he going to do? Was it worth it to continue with his plan and hope to at least salvage their evening? Or was it better to simply state he wasn’t hungry, drop Aziraphale off at the bookshop and try again some other time?

“My dear, is everything ok?”

Crowley was dragged away from his thoughts by a gentle pressure on his arm. They were currently standing outside the theatre, off to the side as people continued to stream out of the building. The demon looked down at his friend, touched to see the concern in his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” Crowley began, making a snap decision. “Yeah, I actually had an idea for dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

The angel beamed. Crowley felt as if his chest might explode. He lead the way down a couple blocks to where he’d parked the Bentley. Technically speaking, they didn’t need to stop at the car. He could have just miracled everything into his hands, but Crowley felt it was more dramatic if he opened the trunk to reveal his next activity rather than have it poof into existence in front of them.

“A picnic?” the angel gasped as Crowley reached in and fished out the basket. He handed it over to Aziraphale and grabbed the large blanket that had also been stowed in the car. “Oh, Crowley! That sounds lovely.”

He smiled, trying not to let it show too much through his sunglasses. “Come on, angel. “Let’s go find a spot to sit down.”

St. James Park was a bit more empty than Crowley had prepared for, which he supposed was a good thing. He would be lying if he said the thought of a nearly private dinner such as this was enticing. 

“This looks like as good a spot as any,” Crowley remarked as he laid out the blanket on the gentle slope of a hill. From this point, they could look down and see the pond with all the ducks floating by. Experience told him that it was also a wonderful place to view the sunset if those ominous looking clouds would decide to go away.

_ I swear to Somebody, if this gets ruined because of a spot of rain… _

Crowley was once again jolted out of his thoughts by a hand on his arm. He looked down to see Aziraphale seated comfortably on the blanket, picnic basket behind him. Sighing and throwing one last threatening glare at the clouds, Crowley moved to join him.

“What a lovely evening,” Aziraphale announced as Crowley began to unpack their food. He could have packed anything for the two of them to share, but the demon had tried to stick to traditional picnic-y sorts of food. Cheese and crackers, fruit, little sandwiches for them to nibble on. A slice of homemade pie - not by him of course. Things that would make this dinner feel authentic. 

“It reminds me of that Seurat painting, you know, the one with all the people gathered on the lawn, just enjoying their Sunday afternoon. You and I saw it once at that gallery on George Street…”

Aziraphale was rambling again, and Crowley was content to lean back on his elbows, a bunch of grapes in hand and simply listen. He could listen to his angel talk all day about the things he loved.

_ His angel _ . When had Aziraphale become that in Crowley’s mind? It was true, Aziraphale was really the only angel he interacted with on a somewhat regular basis. They’d both been stationed on Earth so long, it only made sense that out of all the angels, Aziraphale would be the one Crowley would pick if he had to. But that alone didn’t mean the angel belonged to Crowley.

He wished it did. Crowley wanted nothing more than to be able to call Aziraphale his and vice versa. He looked down at the blanket to the spot where the angel’s hand was resting gently.

_ You could take it, you know, _ a voice inside his mind whispered.  _ It’s right there out in the open. He’s so absorbed in his story, he may not even notice. _

Crowley wanted to take that hand in his. He wanted to lean over and kiss those soft pink lips, run his fingers through those golden curls. Crowley wanted to do a lot of things. Any number of them might cause the angel to send him away forever. There was no way he would be able to sustain something like that.

Maybe this whole plan had been a mistake. Crowley wasn’t ready for this. There was no way he’d be able to tell Aziraphale how he felt. Surely 6000 years would be enough time for him to get a handle on it - to be able to explain it well enough, and it was. But it was also enough time to build up a routine and a familiarity and a comfort that he was not willing to part with. 

What should he do? Did he confess his feelings and risk ruining a friendship 6000 years in the making - a friendship that Crowley was fairly certain he couldn’t live without? Or did he remain silent and continue on as they had, always wishing, always hoping for something more to come of it?

“You know, it really is unfortunate we didn’t get to at least see the end of the first act today. I’ve heard that the final song is spectacular one.”

“Listen,” Crowley began, trying very hard not to think too much into what he was doing. “Aziraphale, I - “

Thunder boomed ahead, startling both eternal beings. The heavens opened up and rain began to fall from the sky. Gently at first, but then with an ever increasing intensity. 

“Bugger all,” Crowley muttered as he miracled their picnic back into the basket and scrambled to his feet. Reaching out his hand, he helped pull Aziraphale up, trying not to focus on the feeling of skin against skin. As they ran for the cover of the Bentley, Crowley cast one more glare up at the sky, furious at everything. 

_ You’ve got to be kidding me,  _ he thought as both angel and demon clambered into the car and out of the rain.  _ Seriously? Just as I was about to… _

His stomach clenched. It had to be a sign. There was no other explanation. Was She telling him that what he’d been trying to do all day was wrong? Is that why all of his plans had fallen apart?

Breathing deeply, Crowley cast those thoughts aside. He miracled their clothes dry and set off for the bookshop, hoping that Aziraphale had something a bit stronger than wine hidden somewhere in his storeroom. 

Crowley was going to need it tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left to go! I've actually written it already, as it's the part of this story that connects with my other one. I am planning on posting it either Wednesday or Thursday this week, but I could be persuaded to post it earlier if you guys wanted to read it.


	5. The End to a Perfect Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perfect day turns into a disaster. This is how that disastrous day ends.

This day had been the absolute worst possible day of his entire existence, Crowley was sure of it. Well, except for that  _ one  _ day right before the Apocalypse he tried so hard not to think about. Everything that could have possibly have gone wrong had done just that. He’d burnt breakfast, been made to dance with a stranger that wore entirely too much perfume, the power had gone out at the theater - causing the show to be cancelled, they had gotten poured on at their picnic and now the rain was coming down so hard there would be absolutely no chance for Crowley to show Aziraphale his new telescope. 

It was time to face the music. He was a complete and total failure. Crowley had tried so hard to make Aziraphale’s day wonderful and it had all blown up in his face. There was no way all of those circumstances lined up by coincidence. This had to be the Almighty at work. She was telling him loud and clear to just give up. He wasn’t worth Aziraphale’s time. He was lucky enough he got to call the angel his friend. Crowley just needed to be satisfied with that and let everything else go.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, the concern in his voice stabbing daggers through Crowley's heart. It was selfish of him to wish that the concern was special, but Aziraphale felt compassion for all things. Sure, he loved Crowley, but in the way that all angels were supposed to love. There was nothing special about Crowley. 

“S’nothing,” he found himself saying as he flopped down on the couch, legs sprawling over the edge. With the snap of his fingers a bottle of wine appeared on the side table, a portion of the liquid already in the glass that had found its way to Crowley’s hand. There was nothing left to do but get sloshed and talk for a while before he made himself go home. Might as well get a head start on it. 

“I had a wonderful time today,” Aziraphale murmured as he took his usual seat in the chair next to the couch. A groan escaped Crowley’s lips. He’d made sure to leave enough room at the end of the sofa for Aziraphale to take it if he so chose. The angel never did. Tears pricked at the demons eyes and he forced them away, thankful for the shield his glasses provided.

“Impossible,” Crowley snorted, chugging the wine in a single gulp, relishing the burning sensation that accompanied it as it passed through his chest. “Today was a right disaster.” His wine glass refilled itself, and Crowley downed that one too, tactfully avoiding looking at the angel’s face.

“Whatever are you talking about, my dear?” Aziraphale sounded genuinely confused. Frustration began to build in the demon’s chest. He honestly could not understand how someone as brilliant as Aziraphale could be so oblivious sometimes. Had he not noticed anything the demon had tried to do for him today? Had he not seen how  _ every single thing _ had gone wrong?

Perhaps that was for the best. It would surely save Crowley a great deal of embarrassment. 

Was that what he wanted? They’d been dancing around each other for 6000 years. Sure, over those millenia their relationship had evolved. Demon and Angel had gone from adversaries to acquaintances to friends. Crowley would even venture to say that he and Aziraphale were best friends. Wasn’t that enough?

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t anymore. While Heaven and Hell had been watching their every move, Crowley understood that they could not be anything more than friends. He understood why Aziraphale always denied anything more than a mild dislike for the demon while they were in public. Even though he hated it with every fiber of his being, Aziraphale’s friendship had been enough. It had been more than he deserved and having anything else was impossible, no matter how much he wanted it.

Now, they were entirely on their own. Heaven and Hell had left them be all year without a single visit or note or word thrown their way. Crowley and Aziraphale were truly on their own side. They could do whatever they wanted, without fear of repercussion. And what Crowley wanted most in the world was for him and his angel to be happy - together.

Part of him had hoped that when the Apocalypse had come and gone, their relationship would simply continue to evolve as it always had before. He hoped that their hands would begin to link together as they walked through the park. He hoped that nights spent alone would turn into nights spent together. He wanted to touch Aziraphale’s face and have the angel run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. He wanted to fall asleep with his head on the angel’s lap as he sat and read his books. He wanted to love the angel - wholly and completely with everything that he had, and Crowley wanted to be loved in return. And not in the way that angels loved. He wanted Aziraphale to love him more than anyone else. He wanted Aziraphale to be  _ in love _ with him, like all of those horrible cheesy novels and movies.

Nothing had changed. A year later and they were still playing the same game. Sure, there was less fear whenever they spent time together. Things were objectively better than they had been, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things he desperately wished he could change.

Crowley sat up, placing his feet firmly on the ground. “Come on, angel. You’re telling me that not a  _ single  _ inconvenient thing happened today?”

“Well,” the angel began, his hands rubbing together nervously. “I mean, perhaps I noticed some unfortunate events. But that doesn’t constitute a disaster of a day.”

Raising his hands, the demon snapped his fingers. The burning pile of crepes from earlier that morning reappeared in the middle of the floor between them. Aziraphale’s blue eyes went wide. 

“What is that?” He didn’t exactly sound disgusted, but the connotation was close to it.

“That,” Crowley exclaimed, “is what happens when I try to make you breakfast.”

A smile broke out across Aziraphale’s face. Crowley didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. “So there  _ was  _ something burning.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I burned your crepes. And we got separated at the dance lessons, and the power went out at the theatre  _ and  _ a rainstorm ruined our picnic. See? Everything I had planned for today went down like a lead balloon. Disaster.”

The smile that had, moments ago, been resting on Aziraphale’s face disappeared. Crowley felt his heart seize with panic. He mentally recited everything he’d just said, searching for the thing that had caused such a reaction.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley began once he noticed the tears in the angel’s eyes. “Please don’t cry. Look,” he huffed, wishing he could go over and comfort his friend but unsure of how to go about doing that. “I didn’t mean for the whole day to go up in flames, alright? I just - I wanted today to be perfect for you. But I mucked it up, and I’m sorry.”

“You did all of this for me?”

Crowley stared at him, flabbergasted. “Of course I did, angel. Who else would I have done it for?”

Aziraphale sniffed, gazing up at Crowley with tenderness in his eyes. The demon felt as if he were about to simply melt into a puddle of goo right there. He held his breath and waited for what would come next.

“I thought you were just being nice. I didn’t realize - “

A growl escaped from Crowley’s throat. There was that blasted word again. “I’m not  _ nice.  _ How many times do I have to tell you?”

“But just look at what you’ve done,” Aziraphale tried to reason with him. “You planned all of these wonderful things so that my day would be special. You were kind, considerate, thoughtful - “

He was cut off once again by the demon’s protest. “For  _ you  _ Aziraphale,” Crowley stressed. “It’s all for you, and you alone.”

Crowley paused and took a deep breath. It was now or never. Slowly, he reached up and pulled his sunglasses down and away from his eyes. As scared as he was that Aziraphale would reject him, Crowley didn’t want any barriers between them anymore.

“It always has been.”

Fear crept its way around his heart as Crowley waited for Aziraphale to respond. They were both leaning forward in their seats, knees brushing, noses mere inches away from touching. If he leaned in just a bit further, Crowley would easily be able to brush his lips up against the angel’s. He’d imagined doing so a million times in a million different ways, but now as he was faced with the opportunity, Crowley found that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk everything that they had. 

What if Aziraphale didn’t feel the same way? What if what he felt for the angel was wrong? Crowley was a demon. Demons weren’t supposed to feel anything remotely similar to affection or love. What if Heaven or Hell found out and decided they had left the pair alone for far too long? Crowley had already lost Aziraphale once. He didn’t think he had it in him to go through that agony a second time.

“Crowley?” The angel’s soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Crowley focused his eyes on the gentle blue ones in front of him. He was no angel, but that didn’t mean Crowley couldn’t recognize all the fear and uncertainty hidden within them. “Would you mind if - Well, I’d very much like to - that is, if you’d be amenable to it - “

“Please…” Crowley felt his voice rasp before his mind had properly processed the jumble of words pouring from Aziraphale’s mouth. 

And then Aziraphale’s lips were on his and the rest of the world faded into nothingness. There was only this, now. Nothing else mattered - nothing else would ever matter again. It was just Crowley’s lips on Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale’s hands tangled in his hair. Two eternal entities clinging to each other with every fiber of their being.

Maybe it was only a few seconds later and maybe it was an eternity, but eventually Aziraphale pulled away. Crowley felt a flash of panic throughout his entire body. This was it. The inevitable rejection. He’d heard these words before. ‘ _ I’m an angel, you’re a demon’. ‘You go to fast for me, Crowley’. ‘My side wouldn’t like that very much’.  _ It always sounded different, but chipped away at Crowley’s heart in the same way a little bit more each time.

“Angel,” Crowley began. If he could just show Aziraphale how much this meant to him, maybe the angel wouldn’t push him away. “Please, you have to just give me a chance to - “

“I love you, Crowley.”

The demon felt himself stiffen as hope flared to life in his chest. He angrily pushed it back down into the crevice from whence it came, reminding himself rather roughly at Aziraphale loved  _ everything.  _ The angel didn’t - couldn’t - love him in the way he so desperately wanted.

“You’re an angel,” he found himself saying, echoing the thoughts in his head. “You love everything.”

“That’s true,” Aziraphale responded, looking rather pensive. Crowley felt despair start to take root within him. He’d always known he’d been right about this, but it still hurt to hear. 

The angel leaned forward and placed his hand gently on Crowley’s, moving to intertwine their fingers. “But this is very different, my dear.”

“How?” the demon croaked, feeling tears building behind his eyes. He. Would. Not. Cry. 

“When I think about you, I picture romantic dinners by candlelight, holding your hand as we stroll through the park together, kissing you over and over and over again. I want to see your face every morning and each evening. I yearn to spend every day with you, doing everything or nothing at all. Those are all very human thoughts, Crowley. And I don’t have them about anything else in all of creation. Only you.”

“I rather think that I am  _ in love _ with you, dearest. In a most certainly human way.”

The words were so simple, yet they undid him. Tears fell from Crowley’s eyes like waterfalls. The demon crumpled forward, his hands finding their way to Aziraphale’s jacket, fists clenching around the lapels, holding on for dear life. 

He felt Aziraphale’s arms wrap themselves around him, fingers stroking his hair gently. Words bubbled to the surface, escaping before Crowley could do anything to stop them.

“Angel, I love you so goddamn much!” he sobbed into Aziraphale’s chest. “I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared of what it would mean and that it was wrong and that something might happen to you. But all I wanted was to  _ be  _ with you.”

A finger brushed up against his chin. Crowley looked up and saw his angel smiling down at him. Gently, Aziraphale moved a hand to brush the tears away, cradling the demon’s face gently. Crowley’s skin burned where Aziraphale touched him, but it was a wonderful sensation. 

He gasped as his lips were captured once again by the angel’s. This kiss sent heat radiating through the demon’s body. Shivering under the touch, Crowley reached a hand up to rest at the side of Aziraphale’s face. The angel sighed in contentment. 

“This isn’t wrong,” Aziraphale assured as he pulled back to gaze into Crowley’s eyes. The demon looked into those bright blue pools and saw love shining out of them. His heart strained in his chest. Would this ever be enough? Crowley was overcome with an overwhelming need for Aziraphale. He took a deep breath and buried his face in the angel’s neck, savoring the familiar scent of books and tea leaves.

“Love is never wrong.”

Oh, how Crowley hoped that to be true. He needed it to be true. Without his love for Aziraphale, he was nothing. Aziraphale was the most important thing in his entire life. Crowley was sure he would die if there ever came a day where the angel wasn’t there with him.

Feeling more confident, Crowley sat up, not caring at all how he had ended up perched on Aziraphale’s lap. He locked gazes with the angel’s, placing both hands lovingly on Aziraphale’s cheeks. The angel beamed at him and Crowley no longer belonged to himself. He never had, really. He’d belonged to Aziraphale since the beginning.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” He had to say it. Had to get the words out before they suffocated him. “I’ve loved you since the day you gave that blessed sword away.”

Aziraphale laughed, filling Crowley with a joy he never thought he’d feel. That smile was because of  _ him.  _ That laugh was Crowley’s handiwork. Aziraphale  _ loved  _ him. In the most human way possible. It was an impossible occurrence, but Crowley wasn’t going to point that out to anyone. 

“I loved you then,” the demon stated, leaning down to kiss his angel, savoring the warmth of Aziraphale’s presence. He committed this moment to his memory, vowing to never forget this feeling of total adoration and love. “I love you now.” Another kiss, another promise. “I will love you for the rest of eternity. For as long as we have left on this planet. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Always,” Aziraphale breathed back against Crowley’s neck. “You can have all of me, my  _ dearest.  _ Always and forever. I’m so sorry it took me so long to see what was right here in front of me. But I promise, I will do everything in my power, for the rest of time, to show you just how much you are loved.”

The eternal beings kissed again and again and again. Waves of love washed over them as they traded whispered promises of all the wondrous things that were to come. It was the end of what turned out to be the most perfect of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a joy to write and a nice break from the other one I've been working on. Let me know what you thought. I'm always excited to hear comments.
> 
> If you're interested to see what happens next, feel free to check out my other story ("Stop All the Clocks"), but I will warn you, that one has a lot of angst (that eventually leads to a happy ending!)
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
